CHAPTER FIFTEEN

WHO’S ON FIRST

MALENDER TOOK MY breath away, his leather and lace like a cavalier from centuries gone, and his eyes a rich, deep, jade color set off by curling sable lashes. They weren’t emeralds, but something smokier and deeper and far more mysterious. Rain glistened off his so-black-it-shone-purple hair, and he had never been baked, tanned, or wrinkled by the sun. Moonlight illuminated him, as the streetlights had not the last time I’d seen him, and I soaked in his beauty. I would want him to the ends of the earth if he were not encased in a boiling, oily, and distasteful cloud. Or if people would stop saying terrible things about him in warning. Or if Carter Phillips did not exist.

And then, because my brain seemed to be spinning, I remembered seeing him with blue eyes and no cloud. How had I not remembered his green eyes? Did they change color according to his mood? Or had it truly been him? Had Joanna’s master been someone entirely different who knew how to mimic Malender? Who would dare such a thing?

Goldie climbed out of the backseat, Steptoe’s coat peeling off her as she did, and it gave an eerie note to her appearing out of thin air. She swayed a bit as she stood, and then her eyes widened. “You!” She jabbed a finger at Malender.

I edged in front of her. “Take it easy, Goldie.”

She put her hand on my shoulder, turning me out of harm’s way, and I could feel her wings flutter. “He is not to be trusted, or trifled with, or ignored. You have no idea what you are dealing with.”

Oh, I had some small idea, but as soon as Goldie and I could have some private time, I intended to find out what she knew about tall, dark, and awesome.

He curled a lip and pointed right back at her. “Do not meddle where you have not been invited.”

“I may not remember your weak spot, but I—”

Malender snarled a word, and Goldie was jerked off her feet and stuffed back into my car. The door slammed after her.

“You didn’t . . .”

Malender’s attention swung back to me. “A lesson for those who would interfere with me.”

“She’s not . . .”

“Of course not. Would I stuff a dead body into your vehicle?”

“The thought did occur to me.”

“You do have some self-preservation sense, then.”

Evidently, only just enough. I gathered up my backpack and clutched it to my side, struggling for a breath because I suddenly could not quite breathe. With his free hand, Malender waved a bubble around us, separating us from the real world and all that it contained, but everything around us grew intense: sight, smell, sound. He smelled like cedar and leather; the oily substance had no scent at all but it gathered at the back of my throat as though it would pool there to choke me, and I could hear my heart beating loudly. I cleared my throat in rapid succession, but nothing rid me of the greasy stuff although I noticed the cloud seemed far less encompassing than it had been, almost as if Malender had found a way to outrun or dissipate it. It wasn’t at all like the nasty cloud of the glop that took Steptoe out, but just as bad in a different way. I thought I’d gag in front of this beautiful being, so I clamped my lips shut and tried to think of other things. Like, why was he holding me by the back of my neck, a foot off the ground? I stabbed a finger downward.

He slowly lowered me and let go.

“Do your eyes change color? And is that cloud like a cloak, sometimes here and sometimes not?”

His jade gaze narrowed at me. “No. But when I said we had to talk, I envisioned myself doing the talking and you listening, to provide an answer now and then.”

“I thought I had something important to say, but—” I managed a smile. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

“You are stirring things about which you know nothing.”

“Your little plots or someone else’s? And if I am screwing around in yours, I might remind you that I have friends and tend to help them when they have problems.”

“Friends would not lead you into trouble.”

“Sometimes they don’t have any choice—none of us do, if there’s a difficulty.” I looked him up and down and could not quite contain the smile that pulled the corner of my mouth. “And, mister, if anyone looks like trouble, you do.”

His nostrils flared ever so slightly. “You are a child.” The cedar smell grew sharper, as if tied to his temper.

“By your standards, we are all barely more than a second old, I’m sure. I don’t function by your standards. You take care of friends if you can. Out there, somewhere, is a little car with one of mine in it. I don’t know if she’s hurt or safe, and I’m not happy to be standing here with you in this—” I circled my hand around.

“If you wish to stand in the rain, I can arrange it.” The bubble opened up, and the storm flowed in as though I stood under Niagara Falls, drenching me immediately. He, of course, stayed high and dry.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He looked almost happy, so I decided I wouldn’t complain. I fiddled with my jacket and brought out the aforementioned hood Evie had told me about again. My hands brushed over the backpack bulge of the ginormous salt container I hauled around every single day, just for contingencies like this. I decided I wanted to hear a bit more of what he had to say before resorting to drastic measures.

“So. I’ve irritated you enough that you must want me to stop doing something, but I can’t if I don’t know exactly what it is. I’ve got a full plate right now. What portion are you suggesting I dump down the garbage disposal?”

“What a quaint way of putting it.” He waggled a few fingers, and I got dry head to toe, but the pelting storm didn’t stop, of course, and I quickly got just as wet all over again. A distinctly amused twinkle settled in his jade eyes.

“I’m not going to abandon my family and my people.”

“I’m not suggesting you abandon them, precisely. Perhaps guiding them would be more accurate.”

“Oh. You want me to push them over a cliff you might be suggesting?”

“Nothing that harsh.”

“What then, and who?” I shook inside my jacket, rather like a wet dog shakes, vigorously, and just happened to soak Malender as well. “Not that I’ll take your advice, but I’d like to know what’s up.” I listened in vain for a siren, indicating that help of some kind might be headed the way of my little car and its occupants. Tired of Malender’s little lather, rinse, and repeat exercise, I held my maelstrom hand up over my head, Immediately, its shield covered me, keeping the wet out and bringing a comfortable warmth in.

A flicker of surprise went through his eyes. Had he not noticed this before? I could have sworn he did when Joanna attacked me. Didn’t we discuss the shield work? Yes, we had. But I don’t think I’d told him there were other attributes I had begun exploring. Perhaps not. And even more perturbing, it might not have been him I’d even talked to, in which case, I’d just done something very stupid by exposing the maelstrom to him and whoever the not-him might have been. Both of them. If there were two of them. My thoughts boggled a bit, and I hesitated about keeping the shield up. But neither did I want to catch my death of cold.

“You were saying?”

He moved a pace, as if getting me centered in his sights. “You’re not magical. No, that’s not correct. Few people are as magical these days as they were centuries and centuries ago, so you might have a dash or two in you, but strictly speaking, you’re not magical.”

The words stung, but I didn’t want to let him see that. I made a face. “And proud of it. I do things the hard way.”

“Oh, magic isn’t easy. Far from it. But even though you’re not magical, you reek of it as if you waded in it every single day. You attract it.”

I flashed my palm at him, adding, “Hello, I have the stone, and I live with a late, great wizard.”

“If they were onions, I could smell them on you.” Malender took a step forward, seriously invading my personal space, and I fought to not step away. He was trying me, and I knew it. “But they are not. Still, there is that in you that attracted them.”

“Returning to . . . people need friends.”

“Professor Brandard had a world full of friends. He turned his back on them.”

I thought of Morty. “Not all.”

“Enough that, in these days, in this place, he needs all he can find.”

“We all do.”

“Do you speak excuses for him?”

“Actually, I thought I was speaking truth to power.”

Malender laughed lightly. “Not with Brandard. I think more of you than that. You have a very good idea of who he is and how he operates.”

“The professor is a crusty old dragon who has had his hoard greatly disturbed, and he doesn’t like it. Nor does he particularly care for visitors treading upon his grounds, but he knows he’s been mortally wounded and that he needs help and he accepts it.”

“Well.”

That stunned Malender quiet for long enough that I wondered if the prof actually could be an old dragon. I stood, arm raised and hand over my head, and also wondered how much longer I could hold the pose. “So I take it that he is one of the people you want me to step away from? I won’t do it, but it would help if you could be a little more definite about it.”

“The professor needs to come to me if he wants to solve his problem.”

“You?”

“Me.”

I shut my mouth carefully, gathering my thoughts. “Oh-kay. You want me to pass that along?”

“I do.”

“Why don’t you approach him yourself?”

“He’s still rather fortified. It would set off a draining and senseless struggle. Also, it occurred to me that the message might mean more if he trusted the messenger.” Malender leaned a shoulder against something that I couldn’t see and disconcerted me as I waited for him to go off-balance or fall and, of course, he didn’t. “He would be wise to want my help.”

“And what could you do for him?”

“Brandard and I come from similar roots, though mine are much more powerful than his. Still, I understand him, and if you could reach the old man inside the young one, he might tell you the same. We have dueled much, in the past, oft on the same side and oft against one another. He remembers me.”

No kidding. He warned me against Malender. I don’t think his memories were as touching as Malender thought, similar origins or not.

“You’re a phoenix wizard.”

“Oh, no.” Malender smiled briefly. “I am the Fire.”

That explained a bit. None of it sounded the least bit persuasive, though.

Malender pressed. “If you tell him I intend to help, he might listen.”

“Might is the operative word here. What’s it going to cost?”

“That’s between me and Brandard.”

“Now, see. You want me to offer a bargain, but you won’t tell me the terms.”

“What we negotiate you would never understand nor need to know.”

I tilted my head. “I don’t understand life, death, and the weight of a soul?”

“My price should not be that dramatic.”

“Then you’re shortchanging yourself, because while Brian looks like a nice, easygoing surfer dude, the professor is all piss and vinegar and hard to get along with. Anything you partner with him to do is going to be difficult. Just a warning.”

He put his hand to his chest. “You’re worried about me? I’m touched.”

“I’m worried about the east coast because, if the two of you tangle, I’m thinking we’re all dust.”

“Hmmmm.” He still looked pleased. And unbearably handsome.

“Anyone else you want me to offer a deal to?”

“No, but you should walk away from Steptoe and the Iron Dwarves and Silverbranch.”

I counted on my free fingers. “I can keep Evelyn.”

His nose wrinkled slightly. “If you can bear her. She is more in the realm of a— What would you call her?”

“Sometimes a bestie and sometimes a frenemy. She’s fluid that way.” A pang went through me at assessing Evelyn so harshly, but I didn’t want Mal to notice her too closely. I thought of my words as camouflage over her true value to me.

He shrugged. “That is a world I do not understand. It’s your choice.”

I straightened. “I have news for you, Malender. It’s all my choice. I have no intentions of leaving any of them behind for any reason, and most certainly not because you suggested it. I trust them, and I don’t trust you.”

“Trust has nothing to do with wisdom.”

“The heck it doesn’t. It’s one of the foundations of freedom.”

“I don’t have your trust?” He bent his head down to look at me closer, his face creased in a touch of sorrow. The laughter at the back of his jade eyes faded a bit.

“Not really. Have you given me reason to?”

“Do you wish to make a deal with me for this trust?”

“No.” A few drops of rain began to slip past my shield, and I knew the stone faltered because I tired. I didn’t really want to be standing out here when it gave way entirely because I didn’t want to let Malender see a weakness. I sensed a hesitation in him.

Then, without warning, a young buck stumbled into our bubble, his three-point horns still covered with velvet, the pupils of his eyes wide in the night, and as quickly, Malender’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the throat. I thought he would simply push the deer out and away. He did not. His hand closed tightly.

The animal kicked his hooves out and thrashed, trying desperately to back up, his rear outside the bubble in the rain and gaining little traction on the soaked ground. Mud splashed everywhere but not a spot hit where I stood. I moved, though, for his striking grew intense with frantic hooves slashing for freedom.

“Don’t hurt him!”

“Do you think he happened here by accident? He’s a tribute, sent by the forest. And he’s been claimed. What I do is a mercy.” Malender’s fist closed. I could hear the jackhammer of the stag’s heartbeat and smell the anguish surging through his body. The deer made a strangling noise, and foam fell from his flared nostrils and open mouth. The sound of his snorting and breathing grew faint. The fog that cloaked Malender billowed darker and grew thicker.

Softly, for the animal and not Malender, I murmured, “It’ll be all right. It will.” Like a subtle flame, his spirit rose inside him, and began to climb out of him, a glowing bit on a string, aiming for freedom. I tried to tear my eyes away from the awfulness eating away at him, the darkness flowing from Malender’s hold into his body.

“Don’t do this.”

“He’s already been committed, but I don’t expect you to understand.” The cords on Malender’s neck stood out as if he struggled, but his voice stayed in velvet tones meant to reassure me which were patently not working.

The stone in my palm bit at me in a surprising and sharp pain. I flicked my hand as if to shake it away. A white light cut through the air and across the string that held the deer’s spirit. It leaped away from him, springing up as if it were the buck itself and leaping over a fallen log or a thicket or a troublesome fence, a jump into freedom. Malender, his face carved into hard lines, did not seem to notice.

I could see the buck stop fighting and begin to tremble. His hindquarters got loose and wobbly and he would have fallen, but Malender detained him too tightly. His legs collapsed and he no longer stood but that his captor held him in the air. His lungs heaved for breath and abruptly stopped. The wide, frightened eyes went all white. As the life left the deer, I could sense it flowing into Malender, and yet . . . and yet . . . I had cut the soul loose. I had helped it somehow, hadn’t I, by setting its spirit free? I closed my eyes a brief second, remembering all the thousands of starlings which could fall from the sky when he struck and absorbed the very essence of life from them. This was both the same and far worse. I did not think of it as a tribute but a needless slaughter. The lathered warmth of the deer’s body turned cold and chill.

I stood frozen in place, afraid to move. This was the being I dared to sass? To share time and space with as if he were one of us? I’d forgotten what I’d been told. What I’d learned. The death of the deer gave me a grim reminder.

The carcass hung from his hand and then, inexorably, turned into ash without flame or heat, and floated away into nothingness. I am Fire. Fire consumes, and if unchecked, will consume utterly. Stone returns to earth and water recycles continuously, but fire—fire must engulf utterly. His act chased the words out of my mouth, the breath from my lungs, the thoughts from my mind.

“Odd, but to be expected these days, I suppose. He had no soul. No matter. He fought well enough. The tribute was accepted. I cannot explain it, Tessa, but you have not seen what you think you’ve seen here.” He did not seem pleased.

“I just saw you strangle an animal to death and then incinerate it.”

“He was dying when he blundered into us. I tried to ameliorate his struggle. But I cannot expect you to understand.”

“Explain it.”

He shook his head. “Believe it or not, I am not willing to risk you by telling you more right now. One day when this cloud about me is gone . . .”

I couldn’t move until he dusted his hands against his leather pants and took his own deep breath and tried to push his cloaking darkness away from his shoulders. He no longer smelled of cedar but death. He closed his eyes for a long moment. The fear stink of the animal, and the sweat of the near-silent battle, and the stench of its dying clung to Malender. That oily cloak about him seemed excited and exhilarated, giving me a vibe that clawed at the back of my throat and made my heart race a little. But his words struck me. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want it. Was it part of him or some kind of curse that had been lowered over him? He straightened and, I swear, stood four inches taller, his eyes more vibrant when he opened them.

“As I said, the professor needs me. And, unfortunately, I believe I have need of him, but only if he is restored. We are both hungry, almost infinitely hungry, but that should not be. We can help each other beyond that. So I allow your interference but only to a point. Believe that.”

After what I’d just seen, I had no doubt. I managed to inhale, coughed on the odor, and swallowed my repugnance down. I took a step away from him and bumped into the inside of the bubble, reminding me I, too, stood trapped even though he’d ripped my part of the ceiling away. How had I forgotten that he was fear and the night and the abyss without hope?

“You seem unconvinced.”

Wavering, I shook my head.

“Then I offer this to you, gratis. A onetime boon to prove my trustworthiness. You’ve been troubled by . . . what is it? A glop?” He laughed then, genuinely, as if the name greatly amused him. He waved a hand negligently. “It is removed and Steptoe can be gathered up.”

He would offer this? And what would he gather in return? Whose life would he devour? My throat dry, my lips reluctant to unseal, I surprised myself by speaking again. “Gratis?”

“Absolutely gratis. There is little worth in a demon of chaotic good, anyway. He trades away most of his ability amid enemies.”

I wanted out and away. My mind galloped ahead with that goal. “I’d argue that with you, but frankly, I need to get home before I worry my mother, and she has been through enough on my account.”

He waved. “Go then. We’ll talk again.” Malender brushed a bit of hair from his forehead. “A blessing of salt, Tessa?”

He wanted salt? Then, by George, I’d give it to him. I clawed the huge container out of my backpack and rained it down on him. That cloak seemed to quail and even develop holes, shredding at its edges, under the cascade of crystals.

Malender winced. It hurt. It seared. I could tell that, but he stood solidly and then put his head back and faced upward into the crystals as they bounced off the planes of his face. The cloak shrank closer about him as I poured. Did I feel sorry for him?

Not if I could help it. The world’s most beautiful being had a core of ugliness I could not tolerate. I turned to run. The bubble burst.

The rain came down in pounding, unrelenting wetness, the road reared up under my feet, and my little car gave a forlorn honk as its lights and motor roared to life. It heaved itself out of the ditch as though an invisible someone with a winch towed it out, and settled back on the pavement, ready to go.

I jumped in. The airbag hadn’t gone off, but Evelyn shook herself awake, one hand to her jaw.

“What did we hit?”

“A tree. I pulled it off the road. Ready to roll?”

“The sooner the better,” came a faint voice from the back seat. Goldie sat up, shrugged off the invisibility coat, and she leaned up front. She held a hand to her temple and said, with a touch of pain in her voice, “We should hurry.”

I had forgotten that Judge Maxwell Parker and the hounds of Silverbranch Academy might be hot on our heels. I put the car in gear. “Rolling!”